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“He does,” Drystan insisted. “That’s why what he learned today cut him so deeply. A love like that rarely severs so quickly.”
He shrugged, unconvinced.
Drystan picked up his quill and scrawled another line across the parchment before him. “You’re in a remarkably bad mood for a man who just blackmailed a king,” he said as he wrote. “If you’d like, you can set out for Crafford first thing in the morning, and I’ll meet you there once the treaty is signed and all the details settled. I know you must be eager to leave this awful place.”
“I told Riona the truth. I told her who I really am.”
The prince jerked upright, knocking over the ink pot in the process. He didn’t even seem to notice the dark stain spreading across the table as he gaped at Caelan. “You didwhat?”
“She would have learned the truth the moment we arrived at Torch. I have told her a dozen times that whatever was between us could not continue, but Drystan… She wanted tomarry me.” His voice broke on the words, a sharp pang of longing striking him so acutely that it took his breath away. “She loves me, and I love her, and I have lied to her from the moment we met. I had to tell her the truth, if only to make her see that there will never be a future for us.”
Drystan rounded the low table and set a hand on his shoulder. “If you thought that telling her the truth was right, I will not challenge you,” he said, holding Caelan’s gaze. “She is free to marry whom she chooses. If she chooses you, my friend, you have my blessing.”
Caelan swallowed the lump building in his throat as a rush of affection for the other man swept over him. Drystan was not his brother by blood, but he and Walther were the closest things Caelan had to family in Erduria. “She has made her opinion of me quite clear. The next time she and I meet, it will not end well.”
Drystan stiffened. “Will she tell anyone who you are? Are you in danger?”
Caelan shook his head, certain that Riona would keep his secret—for now, at least. “She promised that she would be the one to bury a dagger in my heart. She won’t allow the honor to go to one of the king’s men.”
Drystan didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded and returned to his place at the table. “Still, I think it best you set out for Crafford at first light. It’d be wise not to remain any longer than necessary. I want our people to hail you as a hero, not a martyr.”
“Very well. Have the treaty signed first thing in the morning and convince the king to give me a royal escort to wherever he’s storing the ore. If you can spare a few guards, I’ll have them accompany me. We’re not setting off without our share of the eudorite.”
“It’ll be guarded by Rivosi soldiers who want nothing more than to see you dead. Better to wait until Father can send men to secure the ore. I don’t trust them not to attack you.”
A wicked grin spread across Caelan’s lips. “Let them try.”
* * *
Vick was dozing in one of the spare rooms where the guards slept, and he jolted upright when Caelan roughly shook him awake early the next morning. “It wasn’t my fault,” he blurted in a voice thick with sleep and fear. “I didn’t tell— Oh. I thought you were one of Farquar’s men, come to kill me.”
“Not yet,” Caelan responded, perversely amused by the terror that etched itself across the man’s face. He may have promised Vick his protection, but that didn’t mean he was finished punishing him for the attempt on his and Riona’s lives. “Pack whatever belongings you have here and be ready to leave in ten minutes. We’re going to Crafford.”
“Must we go now? I have to arrange the sale of the tavern and gather the rest of my stuff.”
“One of Drystan’s men will do that on your behalf. Right now, it’s important to keep you safe, and I won’t be able to do that if you remain here. Of course, if you no longer want our protection…”
“No, no. I’ll get ready,” Vick grumbled, picking at the edge of the bandage wrapped around his broken hand. “You’ll set me up with a place when we reach Torch?”
“I’ll get you a room and see if I can find some work for you. Once the tavern is sold, you’re on your own, understood? You can sail right back here for all I care.”
The man’s expression soured. “This is the thanks I get for speaking out against Lord Farquar? It won’t take long for news of his arrest to spread to the public. Don’t you think he has powerful friends in the navy who would love to see my head on a spike for revealing what he did?”
Caelan shot him an icy look. “Considering the role you played in Lord Farquar’s plot, you should be grateful that a broken hand is the only injury I gave you. I threw one of your men from the top of the city wall.”
Vick paled and fell silent.
“I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” Caelan said as he started toward the door. “Tell Callan and Halston to pack their bags, as well. We won’t be coming back.”
* * *
Once the ten minutes were up, Caelan led Vick, the brothers, and a handful of Rivosi guards along the cobblestone path toward the gatehouse. The sky was still dark and dotted with stars, a faint tinge of pale pink light bleeding from the eastern horizon. He wore a fine silk doublet with whorls of gold along the collar, and his sword hung in the sheath at his hip. He tried not to think about the emerald-hilted dagger he was leaving behind, nor of the hatred and betrayal that had burned in Riona’s eyes as she held it to his heart.
It is better this way,he told himself.She deserves better than a commoner with no name and no honor.
He shoved thoughts of her away as they passed through the gatehouse. Prince Domhnall was already waiting outside with a few dozen royal guards, and he crossed the forecourt to meet Caelan and his small group near the portcullis. “Your brother has already met with my father and Lord Lachlan, Your Highness,” he said. “The treaty is signed. I’m to accompany you to the warehouse and ensure that you are given what you are owed.”
“A royal escort,” Caelan said, surveying the guards already seated on horseback near the start of the King’s Road, waiting for their prince.
